


The Dad Files

by theLiterator



Category: Iron Man: Armored Adventures
Genre: Friendship, Growing Up, M/M, POV Outsider, SHIELD is possibly evil, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 21:43:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3184196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theLiterator/pseuds/theLiterator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony becomes a defense contractor, and Howard reflects on how he can't control the man Tony's becoming; he can only try to protect the boy he still loves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dad Files

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt on 890fifth.tumblr.com for "Leaving Home."

Howard had balked every time the subject of Tony working defense contracts had come up, and for good reasons, he’d thought.

“He’s too young,” he’d told Obie. “He can’t legally sign a contract; can he legally sign an NDA?” he’d asked his military liaisons.

But now—he watched the camera feed from the Helicarrier, watched his son flit from computer terminal to medical bed and back again, alive with the same spark that Maria’d had.

 _Alive_.

There’d been a few months when he’d been certain that Gene or Zhang or… or _someone_ would swoop in and kill Tony while he stood defenseless, without the mantle of Stark Industries and the security of the public eye to defend him. Months where Howard had grown utterly and completely convinced that he’d break free only to find himself alone. (Those had been the same months when he’d been convinced Gene wasn’t a child but a sociopath, the months he’d _given up_.)

It was those months that he’d realized the truth about his overzealous efforts to keep Tony out of the defense contracting game, efforts which had all been in vain.

(Roberta had known; she’d given him the solution back when Tony had been thirteen and built his first robot with a rudimentary learning AI. She’d known, and she’d held him while he’d cried for Maria all over again, and she’d presented him with a solution.)

 _”Give me numbers, people!”_ came Tony’s voice, all suppressed excitement and the bubbling joy that always possessed him when he was working. _”Or I’ll forget all the very good reasons you gave me for barring Jocasta from your systems and invite her aboard anyway, got it?”_

Tony had argued with him about this project, argued until he’d been hoarse, and then he’d spat and fought and stormed off in a silent huff, remembering, Howard thought, only after he’d slammed his door, that he was eighteen so it didn’t matter what Howard said anyway.

It was just—a project like this might be completely benign, but Howard’s grandfather had told him in hushed tones weighted with dark pride that if they could unlock the information folded into the Captain’s DNA, the applications were limitless.

And things with limitless applications always turned to war and blood and death, in the end. He remembered how excited he’d been about the rings, and he remembered a boy who’d been slowly overrun by genetic memory, by the madness of his step-father and the avarice of his line, and he’d thought—

He thought he could save Tony from that, but then, he’d failed the day Tony had been born, really.

 _”He’s waking up!”_ Tony crowed from the feed, and he watched as his son elbowed aside the trained medical professionals so he could lay a hand on the Captain’s shoulder, so he could be the one to say, “It’s okay, Cap, you’re safe. We’re Americans, and this is a hospital, and you’re safe.”

Howard wondered if Tony’d sat in on some briefing about re-acclimating the Captain to waking life, or if his kid was just secretly that intuitive.

Then, he watched as the Captain’s eyes opened and a dagger-sharp gaze fastened on his son, and Howard froze.

The Captain might be a super soldier, and he might have been Howard’s favorite superhero growing up, and he might have single-handedly turned the tide of the Second World War, but in that moment, Howard realized the guy wasn’t all that much older than Tony was.

“Well, damn,” Howard muttered, shutting off the feeds and turning on the intercom. “Trish, can you get me up to the Helicarrier?”

Trish leaned her head around the door, “I thought you’d been instructed to ‘butt out’ sir,” she said cheerfully.

Howard sighed, running a hand over his face before turning the monitors back on and showing Trish. Her professional smile melted into a frown and she shook her head.

“The thing we all forget,” Howard said. “Is that he died before he turned 21.”

“I’ll arrange that transport, sir.”

***

Everyone knew that the Captain had lied on his enlistment papers. It was an intrinsic part of Captain America, a way to market to teenaged boys with stars in their eyes and the desire to be a superhero.

Howard had never quite believed it: he had held out hope that his government, even a government that had condoned the research and manufacture of nuclear weapons, would refuse to perform a potentially deadly, untested experiment on a teenaged boy. But the proof had been writ plain across the Captain’s face, and he would be _damned_ if he let SHIELD have control over some kid who’d already sold his body to their country, and given his life in defense of the same.

“Sir, I have Ms. Rhodes on the line.”

“Good, hey Roberta.”

“I thought I told you to stay out of trouble, Stark,” she replied warmly. Howard grinned even though she couldn’t see him; the helicopter didn’t have screens.

“Trouble is relative. My son just defrosted Captain America.”

“Well then,” Roberta said. “You boys don’t do things by halves, do you? Let me guess, he’s awakened your dormant mothering instinct?”

“Dormant my _ass_ ,” Trish murmured.

“What was that?” Howard asked.

“Nothing, sir,” Trish said with a shit-eating grin. Howard shook his head at her, and she just shrugged. Right.

“Just, do your best to keep SHIELD from burying him in a dark hole someplace for me, will you?” Howard said.

“Not a problem, Stark,” Roberta said, and then the line went dead.

***

“Mr. Stark, what an unexpected surprise,” Agent Coulson said as Howard strode past the bridge, intent on Bioscience Lab 3.

“You disappoint me,” Howard said good-naturedly. “I’d have thought SHIELD above such petty things as surprises.”

“Normally, yes, but our analysts suggested less than a seven percent chance you’d interfere today.”

“Your analysts missed a variable, then,” Howard said, still cheerful.

“So it would seem,” Agent Coulson said, sounding wry. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to let us know what we missed?”

“I’m sure it will be obvious in just a moment,” Howard said. The doors of the Bioscience Lab Section were not, strictly speaking, coded to allow civilians inside, but his son had been added to the authorized list just a few days ago, and Howard had figured out a way to fake having his son’s biometrics approximately three days after Tony had built his first biometric lock.

The lab was still a well of activity, with a constant hum of nurses and techs calling out numbers and rushing to draw blood and test reflexes and eye-sight, and at the heart of it all was Tony, tucked up on the medical bed with his legs swinging off the side, keeping up a constant string of chatter, that, when Howard focused on him, appeared to be a rundown of major baseball games, currently progressing through the year 1956.

“Dad!” Tony interrupted himself, and his eyes sparkled amber, then black, then back to the blue Howard remembered. “Dad, you’re too late.”

Tony was still angry then—his son almost lost his balance from the sudden renewed surge of it, all of which led to Howard feeling even more exhausted and _old_ than he usually did. The Captain snaked out a hand to keep Tony steady, and Tony patted him absently. “As you can see," he said, "you’re too late.”

It was a line delivered like a hero’s ultimatum, and Howard shook his head, then met the Captain’s gaze. “Looks like I came just in time,” Howard said.

Trish cleared her throat then, and began reading off a cease and desist order.

“Due to Stark Industries proprietary interests in Project Rebirth, and their exclusive patent on the technologies involved, which I have an enumeration of here, I’ll fax it to your Director, there, done, the Strategic Homeland Intelligence and Enforcement Logistics Division, hereafter to be referred to as SHIELD, is ordered to cease and desist all research into those technologies and surrender the test subject, hereafter referred to as The Captain, into the custody of Stark Industries.”

The room had gone slowly quiet, and while Tony’s look bled betrayal, he thought maybe the Captain understood, because he carefully pulled the vacuum needle from his arm and extracted his arm from the grip of the horrified lab tech.

“You willing to ignore that one, Agent?” Howard asked quietly. Tony had stood and started slamming his tech into his backpack with a familiar stubborn set to his shoulders. He was fuming, but he’d forgotten he was old enough to ignore Howard again, and Howard was pretty much completely okay with that. “I mean, we could pursue it in court.”

He watched as Coulson calculated the odds of dismissing Howard’s claims as those of a traumatized victim, and watched him settle his gaze on Tony. “You can have Tony, or you can have the Captain,” Howard confirmed for him. “And you have about 10 seconds to pick.” Tony might be angry wih Howard now, but he[d never work for SHIELD if they tried to discredit him.

Agent Coulson blinked, and he gestured blandly that Howard had won the field.

“Trish, kindly make sure all those tissue samples make it into our chopper. Tony, are you joining us, or would you prefer to stay here?”

“Dad,” Tony practically growled. “This isn’t _fair._ He’s a _person,_ not an experiment!”

Howard shrugged. “Whatever he is, he’s ours.” He was horribly conscious of the eyes on him, on _them_ , and had to hope that Tony would believe him when they got to the helicopter, before the noise dampeners came up, while listening in was nearly impossible.

Howard leaned across the seats to his sulking son and jabbed the sequence that would sheathe him in his armor. “You take the Captain to your new Armory,” he said into the roar. The abrupt silence caught them all by surprise, and the flat, expressionless face of the Iron Man armor was unreadable, even to Howard.

“Now,” he whispered, and Iron Man seized the Captain around the torso and dropped out of the side of the helicopter. A moment later, both boys blinked out of sight, and a moment after that, the pilot said “I’ve lost them on radar.”

“Good,” Howard said. “Let them have all the fun while we figure out what on earth I just got us in to.”

***

The feed to Tony’s new armory appeared in the corner of his computer screen the next morning, and Howards smiled, taking that as it was: forgiveness from Tony, who was never slow in figuring this sort of thing out. He opened it, and watched as Tony explained some finer point of modern… something… to the Captain while he stuffed food into his mouth.

“So, will your dad be looking for me?” the Captain asked after a moment. “I expect he’ll be pretty sore with us given you’ve run off on him and that lady said I belong to his company.”

Tony’s gaze flicked to the camera, and Howard smiled reassuringly at the screen like an enormous dork because even though Tony couldn’t see him, he’d still _looked_.

“Nah,” Tony said. “He has some sort of big corporate plan or something, but he told me to take you, that’s the only reason I did.”

“Oh,” the Captain said, looking around. “So. He sent us here?”

“Sort of? He doesn’t know where here is. He could probably guess, only he won’t. Because what he doesn’t know he can’t tell.”

“Well, I’ve been stuck in worse places,” the Captain replied. “You should have seen the prison in Heilbronn.”

“You’re not a prisoner!” Tony protested. “I’ve got a bunch of cash and stuff so if you want to leave, you totally can.”

“I… totally… can?” the Captain echoed.

“Oh, uh, that’s a colloquialism. I guess it’s a new one. I mean, of course it’s a new one, but—sorry. I’ll try to keep things… swell?”

“It’s fine,” the Captain said, smiling fondly at Tony, and Howard had to cut off the feed.

***

He met Roberta for coffee right on the street outside of his building, and Howard let her lead them on a meandering track down the block and across the street, until they were right up against the waterline and safely ensconced between two construction sites.

“So,” Howard said.

“It doesn’t look good. We managed to pin them with the C&D, because there’s a couple of ways for them to contest it, but none of them end up with the Captain back in their hands.”

“You said it doesn’t look good,” Howard said. “That sounds good to me.”

“Well, the Patriot Act is a thing that exists,” Roberta said.

Howard sipped his coffee. “So, do you have a long-term solution?”

“Marry him to Pepper.”

Howard choked, and Roberta had to pound on his back to clear his lungs. “What?”

“Well, or something. But marry him to someone turn him into a person legally, get everything—“

Howard barked out a laugh that interrupted her explanation, and then shook his head. “Well, Pepper would probably enjoy that.”

“Well, I’m not marrying him to James,” Roberta told him primly. “Besides, they could claim that introduced a conflict of interest and force you to find a new lawyer.”

A commotion broke out over the water, and Howard took another sip of his coffee. A few moments later, Iron Man and War Machine came into view, repulsors already firing to subdue whatever third-rate villain had decided today was a good day to take over Manhattan.

The battle drew closer and closer to their vantage point, and Howard realized at exactly the same moment as Roberta that the second figure was not, in fact, War Machine.

"Howard," Roberta warned, low and fierce.

"Or maybe our next move will be to build him a damned robot suit and call him the Iron Patriot!" Howard snapped. He flung his coffee cup into the nearest trash can and started towards where the battle seemed likely to make landfall at a dead run, Roberta hot on his heels.

"Maybe it's just a new color scheme!" Roberta shouted at him.

"In those colors?" Howard demanded, elbowing his way through the crowd that was gathering to stumble to a halt at the edge of the police tape. His hands found his hips and he cocked his head, glaring furiously and indiscriminately around at the police and the onlookers and the battle itself. "I'm going to kill him," he growled. "And then I'm going to _ground him_ , and then I am going to kill him again."

A nearby police officer must have recognized him, because he nodded sympathetically. "My boy gets into all kinds of trouble himself," he added. "I figured out he really likes those Xbox games, and I just take them away."

"Yeah," Howard said distractedly. The villainous monster thing hit the ground with a wet splooging noise, and Iron Man landed a few seconds after that, with the other armor (the Sentinel of Liberty? Better than Iron Patriot, at least,) hovering for a moment while Iron Man cocked his head slightly, probably to give instructions on landing.

Once the other armor was down, Iron Man rushed in for a hug.

"About that wedding," Howard said after a moment, when he realized neither boy was letting go any time soon.

"He hugs James exactly the same way, Stark," Roberta said, censure in her tone.

"I know my kid," Howard replied, and he did. Tony was _clinging_ , armored fingers flexed tightly against the other armor, whole body leaning in to the embrace.

"You ready for this?" Roberta asked.

"Well, it's as good a plan as any of the ones you had," Howard replied, stepping forward, ready to play the role of billionaire single father. He'd had a lot of practice.

"Tony, who the hell is this?" he demanded loudly, scowling at the armors.

"Oh, hey dad," Tony replied, letting the faceplate slide up. He was grinning and flushed with excitement, and his gaze kept slipping to the other armor.

"Who _is_ this," he demanded.

"Well, it's a funny story, really," Tony intoned loudly enough for the camera phones and professional news crews alike to pick up. "I was in Greenland with this friend, remember? And I found something. I found _someone_."

Howard had the time to count three heartbeats, and then the other faceplate slid up, and the Captain's shocked-pale face was looking out on the world.

"Hey everyone," Tony said with a charming smirk and a flippant little wave. "I'd like you to meet Captain America."

Howard managed to navigate the waters of the ensuing chaos/press conference with his usual aplomb, but through it all, he could only think _Tony didn't warn him_ and imagine the catastrophe that having his first real crush abandon him over something like that would have on his son.

Howard managed to get the four of them (including Roberta) into a towncar that would take them back to the Tower, and once he was safely inside he rubbed a hand over his face.

"A little warning next time," Howard told his son, knowing, as he had known every other time he'd said it, that he would never have adequate warning.

"Jocasta ran the variables," Tony said, sulkily.

"Why did you do that?" the Captain said, still looking shell-shocked. Was the kid even 20?

"Had to keep the Feds from getting their hands on you and tossing you into a hole somewhere until they'd completely vivisected you. Easiest way to do that is make it so there's no such thing as a dark hole where you're concerned," Tony explained, tapping nervously at his leg. The Captain took up his hand and smoothed his fingers out, the touch gentle and intimate.

Roberta made significant faces in Howard's direction, and he manfully ignored her.

***

The Captain—Steve, he’d introduced himself, was full of wonder and politeness and literally everything a parent could possibly want from their child’s potential boyfriend, but he was…

Distant, dazed, cool. He admired the architecture and layout of their penthouse, but it was all in a very distracted manner.

“Food,” Roberta said. “While we wait for James and Pepper to come admire Steve.”

“Who is James, ma’am?” Steve asked.

“My son. Tony calls him Rhodey,” she replied with a small, motherly smile.

“Oh,” Steve said.

“Steve,” Howard said, offering him a hand. “Let’s go check out my office, okay?”

Steve took his hand and followed him down the hall. Howard leaned back against his desk and Steve stood at attention before him for a breath, two.

“You aren’t a soldier anymore, Steve,” Howard said finally.

Steve’s eyes went wide. “But I am,” he said.

“I have a feeling your enlistment papers said ‘for the duration of hostilities plus six months,’ and it’s been longer than six months.”

It wasn’t his most tactful lecture by far, but it also wasn’t his least, he decided.

“I understand, sir,” Steve said.

Howard smiled. “You can call me Howard. Most people do, you know.”

Steve nodded. “Why did you want to speak with me, sir?”

Well, that was something.

“What are your intentions towards my son, Steve?”

Steve went bright purple and then milk white in rapid succession, and it occurred to Howard that had been an indelicate question. He held up a hand.

“No, sorry, that came out wrong. Do you realize my son’s intentions towards you? Do you know that’s a thing, ah, now?”

“Tony has been very kind to me, sir,” Steve said through gritted teeth.

Howard sighed again.

“Right. Okay, well, hopefully Roberta’s arranged for food, or we’ll be making a rather undignified procession down to the cafeteria. Tony and I do—used to do it all the time.”

“What happened?” Steve blurted, and the way he bit his lip afterward showed exactly how unintentional the question was.

“What do you mean?” Howard watched him closely for any signs beyond that, be it discomfort or prurient curiosity or… something. 

“ _Something_ happened,” Steve said, finding his courage somewhere and, impossibly, straightening his spine more. “He won’t talk about it, though, and now I know for certain there’s something to talk about.”

Clever. He’d never really pictured Captain America as _clever_ , in all the years he’d been obsessed with the character.

“I was kidnapped and held prisoner for over a year,” Howard said, forcing his voice to remain level and his emotions to stay uninvolved. Emotions were for his therapist, not this poor young man—and he’d need to get the kid a therapist too, wouldn’t he?

It was worse than having Tony, because with Tony the problems had arisen one-by-one, as Tony had grown up and grown smarter and grown further away from his father. But Steve was an all-at-once sort of deal and Howard should probably get Trish to make him a list.

“Tony thought I was dead. Well, the world did, but Tony’s the important thing here, isn’t he?”

“That must be hard,” Steve said. “Coming back. I had friends—it must be hard.”

“Mm,” Howard said, not quite agreeing. “I’ve got people to help me out with that.”

“Roberta?” Steve asked.

“Among others, yes. You’ve got people too, you know? Any of us would be happy to talk with you, or even just listen. Or we could find you someone, a professional.”

Steve gritted his teeth visibly at that and shook his head.

“Well, I daresay food will be already here and half-devoured by now. Let’s rejoin them, shall we?”

“Yes sir,” Steve said, gesturing for Howard to precede him. Just as Howard’s hand touched the sensor by the door, Steve said: “Since things are different now, I don’t need your permission do I?”

Howard slowly shook his head, even though he wasn’t quite sure what he was denying. 

“Then it’s really none of your business, what my intentions are.” Steve said it firmly enough that Howard almost believed that he wasn’t half out of his mind with fear.

“Well, that’s something, isn’t it? Just be careful of the papers. Page six has changed a lot since you were a kid.”

***

SHIELD makes six requests to interview Captain America the next day. Four of those are through dummy identities and a fifth is pretending to be (or might possibly actually be) a veteran of the war.

The sixth is straightforward and honest, which stymies Trish and Roberta so much that they forward him the whole string and he laughs into his coffee until noon, when Pepper comes bounding into his office and throws herself into his guest chair with an overdramatic huff.

“Hello, Pepper,” Howard said. “Would you like to come in? Have a seat, make yourself comfortable.”

“Is Tony gay?” she demanded.

Howard rubbed his temples. “Pepper, I am a CEO. I don’t have time for this.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Howard. You _always_ have time for us.”

“I think I liked you better when you called me Mr. Stark, Pepper.”

“And I certainly did _not_ like you better when you called me Virginia,” she replied, wrinkling her nose. “But you’re avoiding the question. I feel strongly that someone should have told me Tony preferred boys before I included him in my five-year plan.”

Howard smiled kindly at her. “Well, it’s entirely possible that you should have _asked_ him before including him in your five-year plan, Pepper.”

Pepper huffed, twisting so she was completely sideways in the chair. “No offense, Howard, but have you _met_ him? He doesn’t talk! He builds stuff and then he has emotional breakdowns over his own value in the world. The kid is like... like… an uncommunicative existential crisis. I’m not sure how he dresses himself sometimes.”

“Remind me again why he’s in your five-year plan,” Howard said wryly, trying not to laugh and hurt her feelings.

“Because he’s… he’s _Tony_.”

Howard nodded. “Yes, he is.”

“Ugh, you’re such a _dad_. I have no idea why I came to you for this. I need a _mom_.” With that she was up and darting out the door, hollering for Roberta.

Once it had slid shut behind her, Howard was free to break down laughing. Not _at_ the girl, exactly, but… her energy. It was either laugh or scream when it came to her.

***

Rhodey walked in on Roberta, Trish, and Howard eating a late lunch and stood patiently in order to gather their attention.

“What I would like to know is who approved the Captain getting an armor.”

Howard blinked.

Trish coughed politely into her napkin.

Roberta set down her sandwich and her tablet and said, “Oh, James.”

“No, mom. I want to know who thought this was a good idea. He hasn’t got any _experience,_ and he’s out there backing up Tony like he’s—like he’s—"

No one was rude enough to finish the thought for him, but they all knew where it ended.

“Rhodey,” Howard said gently. “Tony has his own revenue streams from his twitch games, and technically they’re both adults. No one has to approve any armor.”

“Technically, Stark Industries owns Steve,” Rhodey replied.

Roberta shook her head. “While we were willing to take that stance in order to secure the Captain’s life and liberty, Stark Industries’ official stance is that Captain America is a private citizen who is free to pursue his own life, free of government or company interference.”

Roberta waited a beat, dropped the PR tones, and added, “That includes putting on armor. And, by the way, I don’t think you really want to be in here discussing permission to use the armor with me.”

Rhodey blanched, then recovered. “What about the thing. Yesterday.”

“Well, something like that had to happen eventually anyway,” Trish said, shoving some paperwork in Rhodey’s direction. “It was in the original plan. Maybe a few more weeks, but nothing exploded, which is a definite mark in the plus column.”

“This is crazy! You can’t tell me this isn’t crazy.”

Howard shrugged.

Roberta sighed and stood up, wrapping Rhodey in a hug before saying. “You knew this would have to happen after high school anyway.”

“It’s not fair,” Rhodey said, muffling his face in her shirt. “He’s supposed to be my best friend.”

“He still is. Let him figure out his boundaries with Steve, and then he’ll slot you right back in where you were, I promise.”

“Okay, mom,” Rhodey said. “Sorry for interrupting. I’ll just go… play some video games in the penthouse.”

“Good plan,” Howard said heartily, waiting for the door to slide shut before sending a concerned frown in Roberta’s direction. “If you want, I can find him something to do here. Summer internship sort of thing.”

“No, didn’t I tell you? He’s going to West Point in the fall, he has to leave for bootcamp in three weeks. Let him have his fun.”

Howard gaped. “Right. I knew that.”

He wondered if Tony knew, and resolved to mention it as soon as he could.

***

The next morning brought a community breakfast and Pepper Potts and her determination.

“Tony, Steve, I’ve made some pretty significant alterations to my five-year plan, so I need for you to come with me. Oh, Rhodey, you should come too.”

“Come where?” Rhodey asked. Tony and Steve were gazing into each other’s eyes and trying to be discreet about the fact that they were holding hands under the table.

“Right,” Pepper said. “Also Howard may I please have some money.”

Bemused, Howard opened his wallet and tossed her one of the cards that had Tony as an authorized user. “Please no drugs or prostitutes. Not even if they’re ironic prostitutes.”

He stared significantly at Rhodey until he caved. “Come on, Tony, let’s let the adults do their thing. Where are we going, Pepper?”

“It’s a surprise!” Pepper said gleefully, and Howard smiled and waved at them. That would get them out of the way until he and Roberta came up with a solution to Steve’s little government problem, and if they ran into any trouble, well.

They had the armors.

***

There was a saying, somewhere, about famous last words. Howard was pretty sure there was meant to be more to it than just “Famous last words,” but, there it was.

Plus, he was staring at Page Six of the New York Post and he hadn’t had his coffee yet.

“Who let the kids go to Vegas,” he finally managed to bite out. He wasn’t sure, exactly, what he was feeling, but it was some sick combination of fury and hurt.

“You gave them a credit card,” Trish pointed out, handing him his coffee. Sipping it gave him time to process.

“I did.”

“I’m a little hurt that I wasn’t invited.”

Howard leaned forward until his face was pressed against the comforting glass surface of his desk.

“Call him.”

“It keeps going to voicemail, sir.”

“Keep calling him. I want to hear his voice when I tell him just how dead he is.”

“Noted. Would you like more beignets, sir?”

Howard groaned, and Trish wisely retreated.

She left the paper and its full color spread on the wedding of Tony Stark and Steve Rogers, complete with Elvis impersonator as the officiant and a very smug looking Pepper Potts.


End file.
